


Night and day (you are the one)

by nessnessquik



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dorky Phil, Enough pointless tags, F/M, Fluff, Gen, I just really hope you like it!, Nat and Melinda are bffs, Phil Coulson and Melinda May are in love in every AU, Sorry but i dont make the rules, musicians au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-08
Updated: 2016-06-08
Packaged: 2018-07-13 20:27:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7135892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nessnessquik/pseuds/nessnessquik
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Philinda + the Avengers Jazz band AU.</p><p>When their singer gets put on vocal rest, Melinda and her band discover a surprisingly capable, but reluctant replacement. But, as they say, desperate times, desperate measures. </p><p>HUGE thank you to Liz for reading this through for me. Bookfreak, as my fellow and far more experienced music major, your comments and help were absolutely invaluable. Thank you so much.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Night and day (you are the one)

_“What’s our story tonight? Captain America?”_

_“Hmmm. No, not tonight. I want you to tell me about when you and Daddy started playing music together!”_

_“Why do you want to know about that?”_

_“Daddy said I should ask you sometime.” Her daughter grinned._

_“He did, did he?”_

_The little girl nodded and cuddled closer to her._

_Oblivious to the quiet footsteps approaching in the hallway, she thought back. “Well, one day, way before you were born, your Aunt Nat got sick…”_

* * *

Melinda fiddled with her saxophone’s neck strap as she listened to Clint’s hushed conversation, fearing she already knew what was being said.

Clint ended his phone call, shoulders drooping. Melinda held her breath.

“Doctor said she’s on partial vocal rest for a week. She can speak minimally, but she can’t sing.”

The groans filled the large practice room they’d been rehearsing in.

Melinda released her breath slowly. Natasha was one of the best jazz vocalists on campus, and they’d all been thrilled when Clint and Melinda had managed to sweet talk her into singing with them for the end-of-semester jazz recital. (It really hadn’t been so much the convincing part that was difficult, it was more the waiting her out until she’d finished milking their attentions that took a bit of patience).

Now the recital was three days away and their vocalist was banned from singing. Programs were supposed to be printed today, Dr. Fury _hated_ changes made to programs, a vocal piece was required and they didn’t have a backup vocalist to call up and…Melinda gripped her saxophone, the metal felt cold against her warm fingers, _what was she going to do?_

Tony set his trumpet on his knee as he fell into a chair behind him. “Well, we’re screwed.”

Clint picked up and twirled his drumsticks furiously. “We just need to find another vocalist. Fury won’t be as…”

“Furious?” Bruce offered, plucking a few notes on his electric guitar.

They all shot him a look, Bruce ducked his head in response.

“Sure, _furious_ , if we only change the singer. He’s the one that made it a requirement to have at least one vocal piece for jazz recital this semester anyway.”

“Who else can sing like Nat though?” Maria had her arms crossed as she sat next to Steve on the piano bench, her double bass at her feet. “I don’t know anyone that can sing Ella Fitzgerald like she can. Plus, you know how singers are. They’re not gonna want to learn a new song in a matter of days.”

Sam snorted as he set his trombone down. “Vocalists.” He muttered.

“Not _all_ vocalists.” Pepper—second chair clarinetist, Tony’s girlfriend, and the group’s resident cheerleader—reminded him.

“But a _lo_ —”

“Okay, everyone just take a break and get something to eat.” Melinda intervened before they could go off on a tangent. “Brainstorm and ask other music majors if they can think of anyone who would be willing to fill in. We’ll meet back here at 6.”

Everyone filed out with their instruments, Steve gave Melinda a pat on the shoulder and a smile before he left. “We’ll work it out, don’t worry about it.”

Melinda couldn’t help but give him a small smile in return. Steve reminded her so much of Phil sometimes, it was endearing.

 _Phil_. He should be done with classes by now.

Destination decided, Melinda turned and left the music building, safety stored saxophone slung over her shoulder.  

* * *

Melinda’s mouth was set in a thin, hard line as she trudged to the place she always went when she needed to vent: Phil’s apartment. His roommate had recently moved out and left the place fairly empty, making it the perfect place for them—and occasionally the jazz group—to study or hang out.

 _Another singer,_ Melinda thought to herself as she walked, agitation speeding her pace up the stairs.

How were they supposed to get another quality jazz singer to agree to sing at a recital happening in three days? A recital where almost all music students and faculty would be present? Sam had a point, it was near the end of the semester, vocalists were busy preparing their own songs for their jury and didn’t want to take on a new piece.

Melinda reached door 204 and jiggled the knob, annoyed at the lock for preventing her from barging in. “Phil, it’s me.”

She heard music being played from inside. He must not be able to hear her. Melinda sighed and brought out her small ring of keys, finding Phil’s quickly and entering it in the slot.

Hopefully—between her and Phil—they could think of someone with a decent voice that could take over for Nat’s solo. Ever since they’d met and become friends at the college’s gym freshman year (a story Phil loved to repeat to people), they were always able to solve problems better together.

“Phil?” Melinda pushed the door with her shoulder and walked in. Michael Bublé was crooning at full volume from inside Phil’s bathroom as the shower ran. She went up to the door to knock when she heard Phil’s voice join in. Her hand froze.

 _“When will you say yes to me?_  
_Tell me quando, quando, quando?_  
_You mean happiness to me.  
Oh, my love, please tell me when.”_

Melinda set her saxophone down slowly and quietly, her mind moving a mile a minute. They could easily transpose the key, her group excelled at that. They could just change the name on the program and still play the same piece and—

 _“Say it’s me that you adore,  
_ _And then, darling, tell me when.”_

The sincerity and effortless quality of his voice was perfect. It was a little unpolished, sure, but that would fit just fine with the style. It was smooth, clear, just enough richness to give him a beautiful tone, and it was _exactly what she needed._

Of course she’d heard Phil sing before, he burst into song all the time—especially when he cooked—but it had always been in jest, or to annoy her, or when they took rides in Lola and the wind snatched away the sound of their voices singing to the radio. She always knew he had potential, but now she was really _listening_. This was different. And she was desperate.

Melinda waited as he turned off the water, then the radio. She put on her brightest smile when his bathroom door opened.

“Hi.”

Phil yelped and jumped back, gripping the towel around his waist. His chest was bare and had little droplets of water clinging to his skin. Melinda did her best to ignore the toned muscles of his arms and abdomen.

“Melinda, what—I thought you were in rehearsal? How long have you been here?”

“We took a break. Nat got put on vocal rest.” Melinda crossed her arms, choosing not to answer his last question.  

“Oh no.” Phil’s eyes filled with concern, despite his embarrassment. “And the recital’s in only a few days! Do you have a backup?”

Melinda just smirked at him. “I might have someone in mind.”

Phil stared at her blankly. “Who?”

“It’s not a very long song. And you’ve heard me play it enough times, right?”

“What do you…” Phil’s eyebrows drew together as it dawned on him. “Melinda. No.”

Melinda just turned away. “Put some clothes on, then we’ll talk.”

* * *

“No.”

Melinda stared into his eyes, unwavering.

“No!” Phil ran a hand through his still-damp hair anxiously. He plopped on his tiny couch next to her. “I couldn't—wouldn’t! You wouldn’t want me to sing for you, trust me.”

“Yes you can, and I do want you. To sing for us.” Melinda added quickly. She grabbed his hand before he could run it through his hair again. “Please, Phil? At least try at rehearsal tonight. For me?” She pleaded with her eyes.

Phil opened his mouth to protest again, but the way she was looking at him… “That is so not fair.” He whined.

“What isn’t fair?”

“That—” He motioned to her face with his free hand. “That _look_ you’re giving me.”

“Oh, this look?” Melinda tilted her head and blinked slowly, looking up at him through her lashes with sad eyes.

“Ugh, _I hate you_.”

Melinda knew his surrender when she heard it. She practically flew into his arms, hugging him close. “You’re the _best_.”

Phil muttered under his breath, but Melinda felt his arm come up around her waist and she breathed out a sigh of relief that he wasn’t actually mad at her.

Melinda lingered a moment longer, unsure as to when she started enjoying the feeling of Phil’s arms around her so much, when she moved away and smiled at him.

 _He’s your best friend_ , Melinda reminded herself.

“I’m going to text the others.”

“They’ll tell you you’re crazy, which you are.” Phil called after Melinda as she got her phone.

“Oh, shut up, you’ll be fine!” She answered.

They continued to bicker through the dinner Phil made (his special grilled cheese), until they got into Lola to leave. Although Phil’s apartment was within walking distance of the music building, he loved driving Lola as often as he could. Melinda didn’t mind, especially when she had to carry her saxophone with her. It was no baritone, and it had a helpful shoulder strap in addition to the side handle that she used to carry it like a backpack, but even her smaller alto sax got heavy to lug around 24/7.

Phil insisted on carrying it for her, as usual, while they walked on campus. The black plastic glinted under the warm, setting sun. They arrived earlier than the rest of the group, giving Phil a chance to compose himself.

“Yeah, I can’t do this.”

“If you say that one more time, Phil…” Melinda was exasperated. “Come on, I can play the chords on the piano and you can practice before they get here. You’ll be _fine_.”

Phil looked at her and sighed. “Alright. Go ahead.”

Melinda played the opening chord.

 _“Like the beat, beat, beat of the tom-tom, when the jungle shadows fall—”_ Phil’s voice wavered. Melinda nodded encouragingly for him to continue, unaware of how his eyes focused on her.

 _“…still a voice within me keeps repeating, you, you, you._ _Night and day, you are the one.”_ Phil sang, and Melinda felt a rush. This was going to work. It was actually going to work!

The click of the lock signaled someone’s arrival, and Phil stopped mid-sentence, the nerves that had melted away came back in full force.

“Phil, thanks for stepping in, man.” Steve beamed at him as soon as he walked in, clapping him on the back. Sam came up behind him with a grin and a nod.

“Don’t thank me just yet.” Phil chuckled nervously as Melinda showed Sam the transposition of the piece.

“You’ll do great. You know Melinda doesn’t give out compliments frivolously.” Steve reassured him with a grin before settling down on the piano bench, leaving Phil wondering just what exactly Melinda had told their friends about his abilities.

By the time the whole gang was there, Phil was sure he was going to have heart failure. While everyone was going over the transposition, Melinda came over next to him.

She took one look at his face and regretted pushing him into doing something he was uncomfortable with. “You don’t have to do this if you don’t want to. We can figure something else out.”

Phil shook his head. “I’ll always do whatever I can to help you, Lin. You know that. It’s just—you’re the only person I sing around. And mom, of course. I’ve never had to sing for other people before. Even if they are good friends.”

“Well then sing to me.” Phil looked at her in confusion, Melinda just smiled. “Pretend it’s just you and me up there, it’s 10pm and I just convinced you to make pancakes while I practice my repertoire, so you’re singing along with me.”

“You mean last Friday?” Phil grinned back at her, the memory still clear in his mind. “I’ll try.”

“Good.” Melinda squeezed his arm before turning to the rest of the group. “Ready, guys?”

* * *

As Melinda predicted, the group agreed unanimously and enthusiastically for Phil to sing in place of Natasha. Melinda beamed quietly to herself as they all patted him on the back, both encouraging him and needling him for not revealing his talent earlier.

“I wouldn’t be surprised if Dr. Fury asks you about joining one of the choirs or something.” Sam mentioned.

“You know, I’m pretty sure most of the orchestra will be there. Even a certain cellist, Audrey, right?” Tony raised an eyebrow at Phil, who just chuckled in response. “You know girls love a guy that can sing. Just saying.” Tony pointed at him before Pepper dragged him out of the room.

Melinda frowned slightly at the exchange, but quickly smoothed it out when Phil turned to look at her. “Well? Did I avoid completely embarrassing you?”

“I guess it wasn’t a _complete_ embarrassment.” Melinda conceded, packing away her saxophone.

Phil scoffed. “You liked it.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“…Little bit?”

Melinda paused and grinned at him. “Little bit.”

* * *

“Clint said Phil sounded great.” Natasha settled into her bed, looking over at Melinda’s side of the room before clicking off her light.

Melinda smiled at her roommate and pulled the bedsheets over herself, turning her own light off and plunging their shared dorm room into darkness. “He really did. The only thing is his stage presence. He still looks pretty stiff up there.”

“I can go to rehearsal tomorrow, give him a few pointers.” Nat offered.

“That would be _great_. Just don’t overdo it with the talking.” Melinda said gratefully, replaying the image of Phil singing in her head. “His voice really is amazing. Not too raspy, but not classical sounding either. It’s a perfect jazz voice.”

“You sound pretty taken with it. Or with him, I guess should say.”

Melinda frowned in the dark. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means I’m tired of seeing you and Phil dance this ‘we’re just friends’ dance. Clint and I weren’t even this bad. Maybe this is the nudge you guys need to just make out already.” Natasha muttered that last sentence under her breath.

Melinda groaned. “We _are_ friends, Nat. Best friends.” _I don’t want to ruin that._

Melinda could tell Nat understood her unspoken fear in that uncanny way of hers by the way her voice softened. “Just because you’re best friends doesn’t mean you can’t…add onto that. You could be missing out on something _amazing_. Don’t you want to at least give it a try?”

Natasha let the question linger in between them.

Melinda closed her eyes and tried to quiet her jumbled mind. Whenever she thought about her feelings for Phil, her thoughts became complicated. She liked things to be clear and concise, black and white, so she knew exactly what action to take. Unfortunately, her feelings for Phil were anything but simple.  

“Your voice is starting to sound more scratchy. Did you drink your tea?” Melinda asked instead.

Natasha snorted. “Oh yeah, _that_ was a subtle subject change. Yes, mom. I drank my tea, but that wasn’t an answer.” Nat sighed. “Just think about it, Mel. Don’t try to push your feelings away, figure out what they are and move on from there.”

There was another moment of silence. Natasha’s breaths started evening out.

“Thanks, Nat.” Melinda said softly.

The redhead mumbled a “Love ya, Mel.” before succumbing to the pull of sleep.

Melinda closed her eyes and tried to do the same, but all she could see was Phil smiling at her while she spoke about something silly, him dancing to the oldies radio station while he cooked, the spray of freckles on his nose and cheeks (and, as she recently found out, on his shoulders), his arms around her in a tight hug, his blue eyes boring into her while he sang about finding ‘the one.’

Her last thought before she drifted off was, _I think I’m in love with my best friend._

_Crap._

* * *

Melinda kept on a mask of indifference all through rehearsal the next day. But every time Phil turned to look at her, whether he was singing or not, her stomach would clench up. With uncertainty, nerves, or longing, she wasn’t sure what it was. She tried to let the music wash over her and calm her as it usually did, but even that didn’t completely ease her troubled mind.

Asking your best friend, whom you just so happen to have feelings for, to sing a love song with you in front of an audience of fellow students, friends, and faculty?

_Worst decision ever._

* * *

“Let’s take it from May’s solo.”

The band started back up again, Melinda beginning her improvisation on her saxophone. Phil couldn’t help but grin as he watched her—fingers moving effortlessly, eyes closed and strands of hair falling out of her messy bun.

“She’s good, isn’t she?” Natasha appeared next to him. He’d been sitting in the front row of the rehearsal hall, watching the group practice their other piece for the recital.

“She’s _amazing_.” Phil answered without thinking, not taking his eyes off his best friend. “I don’t think she looks this peaceful doing anything else. She’s b—” Phil stopped when he noticed Natasha’s smug smirk.

“Umm, Melinda said you had tips for me?” Phil asked, as nonchalant as one could be with a red face.

Natasha’s smile didn’t disappear, but she stood and took him backstage, setting him up as he would for the performance.

“The vocals are good, although you could do a little more of your own improv, but you need to get more into the song. Loosen up.” Nat stated, walking around him as he sang.

“How do I just ‘loosen up?’ I’m terrified.”

“Don’t just say the lyrics. You have to _feel_ it, especially in jazz.” Natasha explained, sipping some tea from a mug with a black spider on the front, a gift from Clint. “Picture someone in your head, the person you’d sing this to. Don’t sing to the audience, sing it to them.”

Phil took a deep breath and closed his eyes, starting the chorus again. Natasha smiled at the difference.

“That’s it. Move around a little more though, let yourself sway naturally to the music.” Natasha nodded, satisfied. “That’s great. You sing like that tomorrow and everyone will be fangirling all over you afterwards.” Phil snorted, and Nat just couldn’t help herself. “Who were you picturing?”

“Uh, umm,” Phil stammered a moment before Natasha waved him off with another smirk.

“Never mind, I already know.” Natasha heard the last chord of the piece play out on the main stage and began walking out to join the group. “Oh, and Phil? You should wear your suit without the tie tomorrow. Melinda’s a sucker for that look.”

She left Phil with his mouth slightly open and blushing down to his neck.

* * *

Clint nearly jumped out of his chair when a pair of arms wrapped around his neck from behind, but he relaxed as soon as he breathed in her familiar scent.

“Hi.” Clint grinned immediately, swiveling around on his drum set’s seat to see his girlfriend.

“Hey.” Natasha’s eyes were soft as she looked at him.

They kissed briefly and sweetly. Clint pulled her down to sit on his lap and he nuzzled her neck.

“Well? Do you think Phil has it as bad as she does too?” Clint asked quietly.

“It might be even worse, if you can believe it.” Nat let out a short laugh, looking at her friend as she spoke to Maria.

“We should see if we can get Tony to up the bet. It’s definitely gonna happen.”

“I like the way you think, drummer boy.” Natasha’s lips curled into a slow smile as she bent her head down for another kiss.

* * *

“You ready for this?” Phil turned, startled by Melinda’s sudden appearance behind him.

While the others were in the room that led directly to the stage, Phil stood in the adjourning storage room, leaning on one of the largest timpani and listening to the faint music streaming through the hallway. They were the last jazz combo of the night, so they’d had a while to wait.

“I think I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.” Phil faced her and gave her a half smile. He took in Melinda’s appearance. Loose white blouse with just enough buttons undone at the top to drive a guy crazy, black slacks, and black heels that she’d probably take off as soon as they walked off the stage. She’d left her hair loose and slightly curled, falling in dark waves over one shoulder, and her lips were a shade of distracting.

“You look very,” _Stay professional. Don’t say say too much. Stay professional._ “Professional.” _What?_ Phil mentally slapped himself.  

Melinda’s eyebrows drew together in a confused manner even as her lips curled into a smile.

“You know, like a professional… _beauty_ , that’s what I meant.” Phil chuckled nervously, wishing he could melt into the floor. Honestly, the past three days had just been one bumbling, foolhardy mistake after another. He didn’t know what was wrong with him. He’d been hiding his feelings for her this long, it shouldn’t be this much of a problem to act normal.

Melinda snorted. “Smooth, Phil. Very nice recovery.” The smile she sent his way helped ease his embarrassment, but it didn’t do anything for his already-present desire to pull her into his arms and kiss her right there in the rehearsal hall storage room.

“Does this ever get easier?” Phil gestured around the room after a moment, trying to take his mind off the woman in front of him and focus on the event he was actually here for.

“The nerves?” Melinda understood him immediately, as always. He nodded.

“They never go away, no. But they do get easier to channel.” Melinda looked at him with soft eyes. “The whole band thinks you’re amazing, you know.”

Phil let out a laugh and gripped the timpani behind him. “Yeah. I just kinda get the feeling they’re mostly trying to be nice to boost my confidence. Which isn’t a bad thing, of course, it’s just…” He shrugged.

Melinda tilted her head. “Well, do you trust me at least?”

Phil didn’t answer.

“Do you—”

“Yes.” Phil cut her off, glancing at her face before looking down again.

“Good. I know you, Phil.” Melinda moved close to him and took his hand in both of hers. He could feel the calluses from years spent with instruments on her fingers. He watched her hand squeeze his before meeting her gaze again. “I know you wouldn’t be doing this if I hadn’t asked, and I’m telling you right now, if I didn’t believe you could do it, that you would be _amazing_ at it, I wouldn’t have asked.” Melinda gave a small, warm smile. Was he just imagining it, or did he see something akin to longing in her eyes? “And…Tony was right, that cellist is going to be half in love with you after it’s over anyway.”

Phil looked startled. “Who, Audrey? No, she's—”

“Melinda? Come on, quit the hand holding and let’s tune up.” Maria poked her head in quickly before disappearing again.

Melinda followed Maria out before Phil had a chance to explain. He groaned, remembering Tony’s teasing earlier about getting him Audrey’s phone number. Phil thought Melinda hadn’t heard, but apparently he’d been mistaken.

Phil paused. Could she be jealous? What if he hadn’t been imagining that look in her eyes when she took his hand? He stood straighter, a new hope blooming in his chest. Maybe, just maybe, he could find out tonight.

Phil strode out of the storage room, his new determination overpowering his nerves—for the time being.

* * *

Their first piece went perfectly. Melinda was still smiling from the loud cheers (no one really cared about “proper” concert etiquette at jazz recitals) after her own solo. Now, it was Phil’s turn to shine.

The band rearranged themselves and brought out the mic before Phil walked out.

He looked incredibly handsome in his dark blue suit. His open collar only added to that, in Melinda’s opinion, and her eyes lingered on his form. She then couldn’t help but scan the room and noticed Audrey clapping loudly near the front. Melinda felt her heart constrict, but she pushed the feeling away. She had no business being possessive over her best friend. If he liked this girl, she must be special.

Phil nodded to all the band mates, his bright blue gaze settling on Melinda last. The smile he sent her warmed her to her toes, and she returned it in kind.

Clint started on the drums and the others joined in. Phil faced the mic and began singing, looking far more comfortable than he had three days ago. Natasha’s advice must have worked. Melinda felt pride well up in her chest as his smooth voice filled the room.

 _“…Night and day, you are the one.  
_ _Only you, beneath the moon and under the sun.”_

Phil swayed slightly, turning and grinning at the band. Melinda felt an uncharacteristic flutter in her chest when Phil looked toward her in time to sing,

 _“Whether near to me or far,_  
_It’s no matter darlin’ where you are.  
__I think of you night and day.”_

He was lucky she could play this song in her sleep, because her mind went blank at his flirtatious smile and weighted gaze. What was he doing?

_“…There’s an oh, such a hungry yearning, burning inside of me.”_

Another glance.

 _“And its torment won’t be through,_  
_Till you let me spend my life making love to you day and night,  
__Night and day.”_

The audience erupted into applause at the last note. Everyone took a bow together before they singled out Phil to bow for himself. He looked adorably embarrassed, but pleased, when the clapping and cheering grew louder.

They walked off together, smiles on all their faces as they congratulated each other.

“Another jazz recital checked off the list.” Tony sighed.

“Finally.” Bruce added, putting his guitar in its case.

“We’re going to Marco’s for pizza, right?” Maria prompted.

“We’d better,” Sam interjected, already packing his trombone away. “I’m _starving_.”

Melinda rolled her eyes. Sam was always starving.

“It’s tradition.” Steve mentioned to Phil, his hands were in his pockets since his instrument didn’t need any packing. “And as the savior of our vocal piece, you are definitely invited.”

The group let out a chorus of agreement and Phil grinned. “Great. Who needs to study anyway?”

“Truth.” Sam agreed.

Natasha came through the doorway, slightly breathless. “Dr. Fury just told me to tell everyone that he’s had two people so far ask him if we could take on a few gigs after the semester ends.”

The grins on all their faces grew at the news, until Clint let out a whoop and kissed the redhead, eliciting good natured eye rolls and groans from the rest of the group.

“You guys literally find any excuse to plant your lips on each other.” Maria commented dryly.

Melinda exchanged looks with Phil and shook her head, although her face became unusually warm when their eyes met.

Excitement aside, they still had to get all their equipment and instruments put away before they left. Melinda helped where she could, sensing Phil’s lingering presence near her. Finally, just the two them remained backstage, the others left to put their various things away while Pepper and Steve’s girlfriend, Peggy, had gone to save them all seats at Marco’s.

Melinda leaned against the wall briefly and took off her heels, wiggling her toes and sighing in relief. She saw Phil smirk at her from across the room.

“Don’t laugh. These things are torture devices.” Melinda glared.

“So you’ve said.” His eyes twinkled at her in his annoyingly adorable way.  

Melinda sent him a look before she pushed off the wall and moved toward her saxophone, which she had yet to put away. She wondered if the looks he’d sent her during the performance had meant anything. _No_ , she decided stubbornly. He must have just needed someone familiar to look at and ease his nervousness.

Phil cleared his throat behind her. “Thanks, by the way. You were the only reason I was able to stay singing up there.”

Melinda turned and gave him a half smile. “I’m glad I could help. The audience loved you.” She turned back to her instrument and pulled the swab through once before setting it in its case. She’d been right. He’d only needed reassurance.

“It was pretty cool.”

Melinda smiled at his dorkiness.

“But I was really just interested in what one person thought…”

Melinda’s hands froze a moment, hovering over the top of her case. She mentally shook herself and took a breath. “You know, you could call and invite Audrey to join us if you’d like. I’m sure the rest of the group won’t mind.” _Not the way I would mind, anyway._

“What? No, I’m saying— _ugh_. How is it possible that you’re able to read my mind at every moment except _now?”_

“What are you talking about?” Melinda closed her case and took her time with the latches, keeping her back to him.

Melinda felt hands grasp her arms suddenly, spinning her around to meet Phil’s intense blue gaze, their faces only inches apart.

Melinda refused to look at his lips, masking her desire with annoyance. “Phil, what the h—”

He kissed her.

He kissed her long, hard, and desperate.

After a heartbeat, Melinda responded, arms coming up around his neck, bringing him closer. Phil’s hand traveled down her back to rest at her waist, his other busy getting lost and tangled in her hair.

They broke for air only briefly before meeting their lips again, more gently this time.

Melinda felt both weightless and grounded. Both dizzy and clear headed as his lips moved against hers. She slipped one hand through Phil's open collar to stroke the skin at his neck like she’d been wanting to all night, feeling a thrill at the quiet sound he made in the back of his throat in response.

Melinda felt slightly foolish for denying herself the pleasure of Phil Coulson’s kiss for so long, but she decided, right then and there, that it just meant she would have to make up for lost time.

Phil pulled away from Melinda’s lips to kiss a trail across her cheek as they caught their breath.

“Lin, I was trying to say I was singing the song to _you_.” Phil murmured in her ear, leaning the side of his head against hers. “The only way I could focus was to imagine that it was me telling you how I really feel about you.”

“You could have just said so.” Melinda couldn’t stop smiling if she tried, wrapped up in Phil’s arms, inhaling the musky scent of his cologne, the feeling of his lips still burning against her own.

“Well,” Phil pulled his head back to look into her dark gaze. “If I’d known you’d have kissed me like that, I would have done it a long time ago.” He gave her the lopsided grin she loved so much, his hand disengaging from her hair to cup her cheek.

Melinda adjusted her grip around his neck. “And just think, that was just my opening number.” She said in a low voice.

Phil groaned comically before Melinda pulled his head back down to hers.

“Guys, what's— _hello!”_ Clint stopped himself at the doorway, his surprise fading into a smirk as the couple broke apart. He leaned against the door frame. “Nat wanted me to see what was taking so long, she would have come herself if she’d known.” He chuckled as Phil blushed. “We’re leaving now, so if you guys aren’t too _busy_ , we’ll see you there.” Clint snickered again as he left, muttering. “Tony owes us forty bucks.”

Melinda met Phil’s gaze, fighting the urge to kiss that embarrassed smile off his face.

“Come on, big shot.” Melinda picked up her saxophone by the case’s handle and smirked at him. “Let’s go celebrate.”

Phil stepped into her space again, leaning over her slightly and grasping the handle to take the instrument from her. His close proximity made it harder for Melinda to breath properly. “One more kiss?” He asked. “Just to make sure I wasn’t dreaming?”

Melinda rolled her eyes affectionately. She went on her tip-toes and met his lips again, surrendering her instrument to him and cupping his face with both hands. Phil curled his arm around her waist and she could feel her saxophone case press into her back as he tried to bring her body closer to him. Melinda shivered as he deepened their kiss.

Asking your best friend, whom you just so happen to have feelings for, to sing a love song with you in front of an audience of fellow students, friends, and faculty?

_Best decision ever._

* * *

_Melinda closed the door to Skye’s bedroom quietly, taking one step away before a pair of strong arms suddenly surrounded her middle._ Phil, _she thought, relaxing back into her husband with a smile._

_“You’re home early.” Melinda leaned her head on Phil’s shoulder and turned her face toward him. His kiss was gentle, but eager. “I was just telling Skye a bedtime story about how you first joined the band.” She spoke quietly, not wanting to wake their girl up. Especially not when she finally had Phil to herself for the first time in too long._

_“Did you remember to mention how you forced me into it?”_

_Melinda adjusted her body to face him properly and did her best to look offended. “I don’t think that’s exactly how it happened.”_

_“Hmm.” Phil looked down into her face, gaze dropping down to her inviting lips.  His teasing grin became mischievous, causing a shiver of anticipation to run down Melinda’s spine. “Well, there is something I remember pretty clearly.” His hand slid down slowly to her lower back and he pulled her body flush against his. “And it definitely went something like this.” Their lips crashed together with a burning intensity that left both of them breathless._

_Melinda pulled away first, heart pounding with desire as he started kissing her neck. She bit back a moan. “Really? I don’t think I remember this part. You may need to remind me.”_

_“With pleasure.”_

_He picked her up and carried her into their bedroom, shutting the door behind them._

**Author's Note:**

> This was a new challenge for me and I'm still not sure how it came out. I would sincerely love any comments you have! Thank you for reading!
> 
> P.S. I am a vocalist, so I'm allowed to make fun of our stereotype, just in case someone was offended. Haha!


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